Who I Am
by mvdiva
Summary: Severus Snape contemplates a few things in his life.


Who I Am - A Severus Snape Fic

Lily Evans was both the beginning and the end of my life. As much as I normally despise cliches, this one describes everything. Unnecessary as it is to describe the goings on in my early life, I find it essential to map out Things So Far in relation to another fiery woman.

Unlike her predecessor, Hermione Granger never was and never will be a redhead. However, if she were to ever change her hair color, the personality and temperament would never come into question. Red hair or not, her temper is legendary. The personality is something I've had the rare fortune of seeing come to fruit in her years at Hogwarts.

I have now known the latter far longer than the former, yet the similarities between the two still manage to stop me in my tracks. The longing I felt for Lily began to dim over time. The years in between her death at Voldemort's hand and my introduction to the young Miss Granger had been a sort of sandpaper over Lily's memory; smoothing the many rough points and wearing down my horror over the many atrocities I had both witnessed and committed.

But I do not wish to think of those things today. Nor of the graceful red-haired woman, mother to the man who currently stands at my side, stealing glances at me with what passes for Gryffindor subtlety with those eyes that so much resemble hers. As much as I hate to admit it, Harry Potter is the perfect combination of both Lily and James He has Lily's compassion, and James' strength, loathe though I am to admit it. Combined with a short fuse for a temper, he is the quintessential Gryffindor, and the shining hero of the wizarding world.

The first time we faced each other, he watched me as a nervous first year trying to avoid squirming while I faced the Potions classroom, terrorizing the class with my annual speech; wholly in my element. Today is a role reversal of sorts. He now watches me closely, watching for a tell-tale fidget or any sign that I am preparing to bolt for the nearest exit. I am not one for formal ceremonies of any kind. Rewards and speeches and medals are better suited to those who shine in the spotlight. I have always had better things to do with my time than accepting belated pompous gratitude. I always forced aside that particular mug of bitterness because there was more to focus on. Surviving to see the next day was _usually_ at the top of the list. Today, however, there is more at stake than the education of yet another generation of dunderheads or placating a (now defeated and dead) dangerous megalomaniac.

Today is my wedding day. And yes, I am fidgeting. It is merely out of impatience to get this over and done with...or so I tell myself. The fact that two dozen pairs of eyes are also watching my every movement is only slightly disconcerting. I need to use a restroom from ingesting one too many strong cups of coffee. My body is itching from the starched formal dress robes and shining shoes. My bride is late, and I grow increasingly impatient.

I fall back into my idle mental comparison diatribe against the rigid standards of wizarding formal wear until I am drawn out of my thoughts as hush falls over the few murmurs that roll across our assembled friends and families. The Weasleys part from where the whole lot of them have blocked the doors to the Great Hall.

Hermione appears wearing a shy smile and simple beige dress robes. Her dimples appear as she spots me, and she quickens her steps despite the sedate entrance music until she has arrived at my side. When we first agreed to make things official, her only requests were that our ceremony would be held at Hogwarts, and that the vows, "be nothing terribly fancy, Severus, please."

Looking down at her now, I could very nearly kick myself in the arse for not insisting on inviting the whole of Wizarding England to witness our nuptials. Not for my own amusement, mind you, but to bear witness to the beauty that despite all difficulties and better choices has attached herself to my side and now smiles at me.  
Albus probably speaks of love growing and enduring in the face of great adversity. his words are most likely wise and filled with subtle praise for the two of us. I know not. All I know is the feel of Hermione warm against my side; her two small hands wrapped around my own, occasionally squeezing mine as Albus says something she particularly likes. My normally sharp mind feels wrapped in some sort of fuzzy cotton, and all I can wonder at is how I managed to be this lucky.  
Despite all the sins of my past, I am standing here with my companion - my partner in all things - and I am filled with something that feels quite similar to a bit of Phoenix song I once experienced, courtesy of Fawkes.  
"I now pronounce you Wizard and Wife." There is a smile in Albus' words, and as Hermione tugs me down for a kiss, I place a name to the warm feeling. It is happiness. I am happy. Her lips touch mine, and the hard life I once knew - who I once was - evaporates like true sunlight on murky London fog.  
Who I was is no longer who I am. Good riddance to the old life. Goodbye to the dour, angry and hopeless double-agent. Who I am now is what matters. The things I did on my path to damnation or redemption are in the past. Our kiss breaks, and Hermione gives me a small soft smile before we turn to face our well-wishers. Who I am now is what matters.


End file.
